Puerile
by EvilDementedBunny
Summary: Someone somewhere must have really hated them, the twins decided. Because there was just no other explanation to why they were holding their brother's best friend in their arms, even if she was cute, adorable, and barely two feet tall.
1. Prologue

**Title:** Puerile

**Summary**: Someone, somewhere must have really hated them. Because there was just no other explanation to why they were holding their brother's best friend in their arms, even if she was cute, adorable, and barely two feet tall.

**Rating:** T for language, themes, and some innuendos

**A/N:** Well, this was completely unexpected. But here it is! Since Fred is still alive, I'm believing this is what you would call an AU (In my mind, Fred never died..).

Oh, and **disclaimer:** I do not, have not, and will not (sadly) only Harry Potter, the books, the movies, the characters, or anything related to the franchise. This honor goes to J.K. Rowling. All I have is this plot. But as sadly cliche as I just now realize...

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue:<strong> The Unexpected Misfortune of Calamity

Someone up there must have hated them. Briefly, they wondered if they ever did anything so wrong as to garner such a horrible fate. They hadn't done anything bad, well mischievous yes, but bad, never! They didn't steal anything. They hadn't killed anyone. They hadn't lie… well technically telling Ginny that her hair looked fine(even though it didn't, due to a strange occurrence of flying birds, whizbangs, and an all too conveniently placed jar of hippogriff feed), wasn't a complete lie, right? Certainly, trying to appease a homicidal little sister didn't induce karma to such an extent, did it? Besides, they were acting on their survival instinct, and their survival instinct told them to not comment on what a mess the birds had done to her normally straight red locks. Nor should they comment on how her normally straight red locks had spontaneously turned a little purple (well Fred thought it was more of a navy blue).

Also, they hadn't locked anyone up in a closet anytime... recently. Nor had they exchanged anyone's bottle of strawberry mint shampoo into a bottle of the wonderful thingy muggles called superglue (once again, their survival instinct had told them to not comment on why Ginny's normally flowing hair was stuck up in random spikes like that also oh so wonderful thing muggles called porcupines. Those hair needles could practically poke your eyes out, mind you. And they were mischievous, not suicidal). Thinking back, the twins wondered what could have possibly set off such a horrible chain of events.

Did they offend someone? Nah, that couldn't be it. Maybe someone wanted to get back at them for a prank they pulled? Plausible. But nobody ever out-pranked the Weasley twins. Not to said that they didn't try of course. It was just no one had yet to succeed though. Could it be that maybe someone just really hated them enough to hex them this terrible misfortune? But who would try to jinx _them_? They positively had done nothing wrong. They were practically the embodiment of model wizards. The epitome of pureness and innocence! The greatness of all that is to be called -

"Fed! Reorge!"

At the sound of a small high-pitched voice, the twins were suddenly pulled out of their reveries and looked nervously at the little girl below them. The small girl looked back at them through large brown owlish eyes, a small pout tugging at the corner of her pink lips as she cocked her head to the side. Seeing as how the two large men in front of her were refusing to respond or even offer any coherent sign of consciousness, she called out their names again. Well at least, she believed that was their names.

"Red? Weorge?" she called, this time a little uncertain. Instead of replying, they gave her an incredulous look. Maybe she had gotten their names wrong? Puzzled, she nibbled tentatively at her lips and tried to remember. She couldn't really remember them well. It was as if there was a weird sort of haze that was fogging up her mind. All she could remember was red. A lot of red. And freckles. And fireworks? But just as soon as she thought it, her face scrunched up again. What were fireworks?

This time, the little brown haired girl looked up at them expectantly, her brows furrowed in concentration as she stared at them with a pensive expression on her small chubby face. Her cheeks were puffed out with a slight coat of pink and her little button nose wrinkled in concentration. Suddenly, as if some holy understanding transcended onto her, a large grin lit up her face, as she bounced up in excitement.

"Red" she shouted, this time a little louder, pointing at the red headed boy (one of the red headed boy) again. "Reorge!" now pointing at the other twin. She gave them another dazzling smile, and proceeded to attack them again with another hug. But thanks to her tiny stature, she could barely reach to their knees which then resulted in two very unstable twins whose legs were now unceremoniously bound together by a little kid at their feet. Needless to say, the twins were shocked. Well, to be exact, they were still in shock. Cautiously, as if she would sprout wings and pixie away, Fred and George looked down at her and then back at each other. Then they both looked down again. And sure it enough, there was a little girl flouncing in front of them.

A little girl that wasn't supposed to be a little girl. So how in Merlin's name had they managed to turn a 18 year old girl, not to mention their brother's best friend, into a 5 year old?

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><p>AN: Well, like I said, this came to me in a spur of a moment kind of deal... just something humorous I (really) wanted to try out. I was really trying to make it seem as fun and humorous as possible (sadly i think I failed) but well, here's my shot! Anyway, I tried (or will try) to keep the character in their own character as much as possible. But unfortunately, somehow that didn't seem to work. *cries.

Also, forgive me on my grammar. I know it probably isn't the best and I tried to proof read this as much as I could but there was only so much I could catch. Not to mention I have a horrible habit of adding commas in really weird places.

Anyway, thank you for putting up with this prologue. Next chapter shall be up soon.


	2. A Child's Play

**Title:** Puerile

**Summary**: Someone, somewhere must have really hated them. Because there was just no other explanation to why they were holding their brother's best friend in their arms, even if she was cute, adorable, and barely two feet tall.

**Rating:** T for language, themes, and some innuendos

**A/N:** Well, this was completely unexpected. But here it is! Since Fred is still alive, I'm believing this is what you would call an AU (In my world, Fred never died).

Oh, and **disclaimer:** I do not, have not, and will not (sadly) only Harry Potter, the books, the movies, the characters, or anything related to the franchise. This honor goes to J.K. Rowling. All I have is this plot. But as sadly cliché as I just now realize...

**Warning:** Weasley twins and a five year old Hermione…enough said.

**Chapter 1:** A Child's Play

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><p><strong>Puerile (adjective):<strong>

**Silly;** regarded as childishly silly or immature

**Relating to Childhood;** relating to or the characteristic of childhood

* * *

><p>Earlier that same day…<p>

It was quiet that day. Which signal that something was wrong. Very, very wrong. It was NEVER quiet in the twin's shop, wonderfully named Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, or dutifully dubbed by one kind Hogwart's prefect, the biggest pain in the arse – since the twins themselves of course. There was either too much noise from a complaining customer, or shouts from a too enthusiastic kid, or some sort of catastrophe from a precariously placed whizbang. Which thus induced one hesitant Hermione Granger, witch extraordinaire, to cautiously tiptoe around the shop lest some unfortunate calamity might enforce itself on to her, courtesy of two pranksters she begrudgingly had to find.

"Fred! George!" Hermione shouted irritably.

Silence greeted her questioning shout. With a feeling of paranoia sweeping into her, she carefully backed towards the end of the shop, wand in hand and eyes fretfully glancing towards every corner of the store. She could see their patented daydream charms at one end of a shelf, decorated with lilac ribbons and funny cut out shapes of what she believed were clouds (and she wasn't entirely sure but one of those clouds looked ridiculously like Snape with a tutu). Towards the other end, there were stacks of canary creams pile dangerously one on top of the other and potions of all sorts of color. Whizbangs littered the entire vicinity of another shelf while familiar looking telescopes like-things were content with their positions in yellow burgundy chests on the floor. She still hadn't forgotten the weeks' worth of makeup she went through trying to cover up the black eye the telescope gave her.

Thus far everything seemed in order. Which then meant that everything was absolutely wrong. Besides you could never be so sure with the twins. They had a habit of doing the most unexpected things. A rule she had once learned the hard way when she had accidently borrowed Ginny's shampoo. Not to mention the time when she was accidently locked inside the boys' bathroom closet at Hogwarts. There were two things she had learned that day. One, that the boys' bathroom did indeed have closets (for what purpose she did not know and very possibly did not want to know). And two, never ever let the twins guide you because one of your best friend accidently gave you whiplash while attempting to make a love potion in class. Oh wait, there was another thing she learned that day. Never ever let Ron add anything to a cauldron unless she was one hundred percent sure it was safe and she herself was safely hidden at least five feet away. She had to positively scour an entire section of the library to find a spell on how to grow your eyebrows back.

"George! Fred!" She shouted again only to be met with another bout of silence.

This time she took another hesitant step backwards before a discreet shuffling of steps caused her to abruptly turn around, wand raised high, right into the counter corner.

"Oh! Bloody Merlin!" She hissed beneath her breath as she cradled her sore abdomen in her right arm where the corner had undoubtedly left a mark. At the sound of a low chuckle she looked up and glared at the offending pair who walked out while muttering softly to herself.

"I never knew you were so agile, 'mione!" Fred laughed, his face filled with mirth.

"Yep and quite the vocabulary too", George added, a smirk forming on his face. "And what was the part about castrating somebody by sending a flood of birds? I didn't quite catch that".

Blushing, Hermione gave them the sternest stare she could muster and fought back the urge to slam her head against the counter top.

"Well, if you want, I could always try it so you could _catch_ it" she threatened darkly as she glared curtly at the pair of mischievous boys in front of her.

"Nah, I'll pass. I'm still nursing the bruise from Ginny's bat-bogey hex", George responded with a lopsided grin as he rubbed the back of his head from where the bats had begrudgingly caught a hold of his hair. _Who knew bats could peck?_

Hermione gave him an apathetic smile as she regarded the pair who just seemed to appear out of thin air; but then again, they probably did just that. The twins were stilled dressed formally in their work robes, well as formally as they could for a pair of mischief makers in a prank shop. The deep magenta color of robes contrasted their normally pale, albeit freckled complexion and it highlighted their hair in way that made the sun-burnt orange strands appear even brighter, if that was humanly (er- wizardly) possible. They also each had on a white button that comically flashed the letters, -in a bold red outline-'WWW', every other second.

"I'm quite impressed really", Fred admitted a large grin appearing on his face. "But what did we do to warrant such an honor with your lovely presence, oh great witch?" He finished this with a great flourish and deep bow that left his robes flittering but the entire effect was slightly marred by the obvious wiggles of his eyebrows.

_Oh… I am never going to live this down, am I? _Hermione internally cried."Mrs. Weasley wants you all back at the burrow" she explained, coloring slightly but glad for the new change in topic.

"Oh so Mum sent you to get us", George said as he noted Hermione's nod. "Not to be rude, but where's everyone else?" He spoke as he glanced around the empty shop.

"Quidditch", she finished simply as she found a comfortable spot against the cursed counter to lean on, wincing slightly as it brushed against her newly forming bruise.

"Figures", the twins both chorused simultaneously, hiding their chuckles as they watched Hermione very conspicuously trying to hide her displeasure at their counter.

"Eh, but why aren't you playing?" George couldn't help but ask as he leaned in closer. Thinking back, he realized that he had never actually seen Hermione play Quidditch before. _Hmm…interesting._

Blushing at his intense stare, Hermione averted her eyes away, seeming to take an immense interest on the handiwork of her blouse. She never realized it before, but those seams were gorgeously sewed. And was that selkie silk, she spied?

"Well, I, er-"

"You know, 'er' isn't a real answer", Fred responded, leaning in as well as he peered down at her from his height, a smirk clearly palpable on his face. George seemed to sport a very identical one as well. _They just had to be identical, didn't they?_

Hermione, however, had a very different expression. Something akin to horror and terror - very reminiscent of when Draco discovered that his entire dorm was painted in red and gold drapes or when he discovered Crabbe and Goyle drunk and half naked dancing to a weird muggle song on his bed (who's Britney Spears, anyway?) -with a dash of fear was imprinted on her features very clearly. She was sure that by now, her face was probably as red as a tomato. Or maybe the Weasleys' hair, which ever happened to be brighter. Not to mention, Fred and George were still wearing that bloody awful smirk on their faces.

Looking down, and quite thoroughly embarrassed, Hermione spoke in a torrent of words. "I'mscaredofheights".

"Eh?" was all the twins could say to her response.

"I said, I'm scared of heights", she said, this time a little slower but just as embarrassed as she glanced away from their stares while her cheeks formed a nice rosy hue.

"Well, is that so?" Fred asked, a dangerous grin slowly appearing on his face as he turned to face his twin.

"We have the perfect remedy for that", George continued as he pulled a suspicious looking blue bottle from a hidden compartment behind the counter. That horribly cursed counter.

Suspicious, Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, clenching her wand closer to her and mentally thanked Ginny for teaching her that wonderful bat-bogey hex.

"This" Fred started, pausing slightly for dramatic effect, "is our greatest new invention!"

"…" Hermione merely nodded.

"…"

"Er- aren't you going to ask what it is?" George asked with a slightly perplexed expression on his face as he cocked his head to the side and twirled the bottle between his fingers.

Hermione merely shook her head while noting that the strange (greenish) liquid seemed to be foaming.

"Well, why not?" Fred continued to interrogate her.

This time, she chose not to respond but slowly backed away from the twins and the even more suspicious looking counter from which the bottle was pulled out of. If she had learned anything from her summers with the Weasleys at the Burrow was that no one should ever accept anything from the twins- be it liquid, sweets, or miniature dragons- unless they had a masochistic desire for being pranked and possibly, very possibly, humiliated and not to mentioned teased for a supremely long amount of time (she also learned that Weasleys, especially the twins, remembered things for a very long time, particularly if they are exceptionally embarrassing).

Seeming to read the doubt in her eyes as she glanced fretfully at them, Fred mentally sighed.

"Don't worry, It's not going to jinx you".

"Or turn you blue", George added.

"Or make you grow ridiculously large amount of facial hair". Hermione grimaced at that.

"Or make you talk backwards".

"Or give you antlers". Fred held back a chuckle at that one. Hermione narrowed her eyes in response, chuckling was never a good sign.

"Or a tail, be it monkeys or rabbits".

"Or turn your hair blue".

"Actually it has nothing to do with the color blue", George finally confessed and then smiled sheepishly as if a heavy burden was lifted off his shoulders.

"Or any other color, for that matter", Fred shrugged aimlessly.

"So now-", George said.

"Will you trust us?" Fred finished and looked at her with an expression akin to a lost puppy dog. Mentally she wondered whether the twins were long lost relatives of those adorable mutts, they seemed to have the expression down pat. _Ohhh…Why did she have to be weak against puppies?_

Caving in, Hermione almost groaned audibly as she felt her head gave a slight hesitant nod.

"Great!"

"Stupendous!"

"You're not going to regret this!"

"Oh, I think I'm already beginning to" Hermione muttered softly under her breath as two pair of arms ushered her to a little workroom tucked away in a corner from behind the shop.

"Whaaa?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing".

As she stepped into the dimly lit room behind the shop, Hermione let her eyes roam over the familiar tidy little orange workshop. She had been in there more than once, quite often actually, in fact she was even there when they had painted it, adamantly insisting on a bright neon orange and even more adamantly insisting on doing it the "muggle way" (she had spent hours with Ginny afterwards to get the paint out of her hair. Apparently, there was no way to get rid of the paint magically without also losing a good chunk of your hair as well). Despite having a reputation as pranksters, the twins kept a fairly neat workshop, a thing she was surprised but nonetheless pleased with. At least it helped to be able to walk across the room without finding some cursed thing to trip on, a feat likely impossible to be achieved in their real rooms. How they managed to sleep in it was a matter she couldn't comprehend.

There were stacks of potion book strewn across the many tables, but they were (somewhat) neatly organized and uncluttered. Wooden shelves lined the bright walls of the rooms and they were filled with all sorts of different ingredients, ingredients that sometimes one should rather not know what they were actually are, she made the fatal mistake of asking what really was in their daydream charms. Cauldrons and open bottles were settled towards the back of the rooms, where the bubbling contents produce a wide aroma of scents, sometimes pleasant and sometimes very much not. She was going to _end_ whoever it was that revealed to them the existence of muggle stink bombs. The girls' bathroom on the third floor at Hogwarts was still virtually unusable thanks to that little prank.

Taking quick swift steps, the twins led her to one of the table near the right side of the shop. There were a sundry of cups and vials of all sorts of color and sizes that littered the entire wooden table. One of the blue cups seemed to be exceptionally steaming. They seemed to have been working on something when she called for them.

"Are you ready to be _dazzled_?" Fred asked, with a slight emphasis on the last word that made her twitched tentatively. _When had he learned that word?_

Hermione could only nod.

Taking that as a cue, Fred dramatically lifted the bottle up into the air, and posing with one hand rested at his hip, and one leg bent outwards, he shouted enthusiastically, "This, my dear witch, is 'Weasleys' No Fear' Potion!"

Tilting her head slightly to the side, she was more perturbed by that pose than by the vial of liquid itself, although the color did look like quite an unpleasant shade of green and blue.

"Er-well, the title needs some work, but it works", George exclaimed noticing her distressed stare.

"Yep. The basic idea is that it stops you from being afraid of whatever you're afraid of. It's like a courage potion of some sorts. You know, you just drink it and viola, no more fear".

"Not to mention it's a hundred percent foolproof!" George added with a snicker.

Fred laughed lightly, "We tested it out on Ron".

"Remember how he used to hate spiders? Well, after a sip of this, he could practically kiss one!"

"You really should have seen his face. We thought he might have kissed _us_". Fred and George both shuddered at the thought, while Hermione gave them an amused laugh. She still retained that memory of when Ron came bursting in on her and Harry's game of wizard's chess with a spider attached to the side of his face very well.

"But it's quite brilliant", Hermione smiled encouragingly, emboldened by the idea that at least it worked on Ron.

"Ehh?" The twins both turned to her with a surprised expression. Normally she would give them her 'patented Granger prefect stare' anytime they offered a new product, of course, since most of the time she and Ginny had the honor of testing it out first. They always did have the best reactions.

"Really". She said earnestly, giving them a genuine smile. "I mean, this would be great. You would practically be able to do anything".

Despite her reputation as a prefect- erhm, THE GRANGER PREFECT, she still found herself in awe (not that she'd admit it) of the twin's work. She even had a secret stash of daydream charms tucked safely under her bed, (not that she'd admit this either).

"So you're willing to test it out?" Fred asked enthusiastically.

"T-test?" Awed, yes, but it still didn't make her suicidal enough to be a test victim- er, dummy.

"Er- I mean _try_ it". They gave her another_ look_.

_Don't look. Don't look!_

Cue pout and moist eyes. _Nod, nod!_

Curse all the puppies in the world, how _did_ they do it?

_Look away, look away!_ She felt her the more comprehensive side of her scream inside her head. _Oh, for the love of Merlin, look away!_

A slight whimper made her begrudgingly squint back.

And she nodded.

"Perfect!"

"Excellent!"

"Wonderful!"

She bit back a groan as the sense of déjà vu washed over her.

Grabbing a small cup on the table, Fred tossed it to George who quickly popped off the cork and dumped half the bottle into the gleaming red cup. Immediately a puff of smoke erupted from the liquid with a slight 'poof'.

"There you go", Fred graciously offered her the steaming cup.

"Er, must I try it here?" Hermione asked hesitantly, eyeing the smoke with suspicion.

"Of course you do!" They both answered together.

"But we really must get going. Besides, Mrs. Weasley wants us all back in the burrow!" She nervously spewed, her eyes glancing off towards the exit near the front right corner of the workshop. Setting the cup down, she considered her chances of making it towards the exit before they could catch up and pull her back. _Ten, maybe fifteen seconds from here to the door. I could always dash for it, but then again, they have longer legs. Maybe I could bind them with ropes…_

"Now, now, drink up".

"Shouldn't we get going?" She decided to press once more. Ropes were sounding a like a very good idea.

"We will".

"After you finish".

"That is…" Fred paused.

"Unless you're afraid?" George drawled out with a small smirk.

Hermione defiantly puffed her cheeks out.

"Aren't you…?"

"Going to drink it?" She gulped nervously. _Don't fall for it._

"Come on…"

"Even Ron drank it".

She felt her eyes twitch slightly, but continued to eye the exit. _Don't fall for it. Don't fall for the bait!_

"I guess you're scared then". Fred murmured in a poignant tone.

"Who would've thought…"

"Griffindor's greatest Prefect would be intimidated by us".

And thus she grabbed the steaming cup.

* * *

><p>"Red! Reorge!"<p>

The twins gave each other a shocked look, with neither replying to her outburst, before blinking dazedly and staring down at the little girl beneath their feet. She looked tiny compared to their size, which was considerable given that they both stood towering above six feet. Peering down, she hardly looked past five. She was wearing a small, well used to be small, cream blouse that hung off her shoulders and reached past her claves. The hem of the shirt barely grazing the skin of her feet. Her hair was bushy and wild, with a few unruly curls falling down covering her forehead. The black robes that she once wore now laid in a puddle of dark cloth at the ground a little more than a foot below her. She was staring at them with her large doe like eyes.

After a few more minutes of silence and finally gaining some sense of sanity, George gave his brother a quick jab in the ribs.

"Ow! For Godric's sake, what the bloody hell was that for?" Fred shouted, glaring at George before earning himself another painful jab right above the kneecap.

"Don't use that kind of language in front of a small child!" George hissed. "And pick her up too!"

"Huh?"

"Well, Freddie, me boy, don't tell me you've caught Ron's horrid daftness. I said pick her up."

"Why me?" Fred all but pouted (and completely forgetting to deny the former point of his twin's statement).

"Well you are the one that started this mess", George countered lifting his arms and crossing them at his chest.

Fred looked shocked, before indignantly shouting and very loudly too, "Me! My dear brother, I believe that it was you who created this calamity".

"No…" George shook his head, "If I remembered correctly, and I know I do, you were the one that insisted we recreate our aging potion from our fourth year".

"But I wasn't the one for left it on the table" Fred neatly declared, lifting one red brow up as if suggesting for his twin counter him.

"But you were the one that invited her inside!"

"Well, you didn't stop her from drinking it!"

"How in Merlin's name should I know she was going to drink it!"

"Well, she lifted up the cup" Fred said, giving his twin an incredulous look.

"That could've meant anything!"

"Well, what was she going to do with it? Twirl it around, add some sparkles, pour it over your head, and hope that Snape would come out dressed in a rubber ducky suit!"

"…." A moment of silence followed.

"…."

"Well… that was one image I never needed to picture." George choked out, his face turning a slight pinkish green as Fred chuckled. "But… you're not gonna leave her on the ground like that, are you?" George asked, a spark of humor in his eyes as he gave his twin a pointed look, the color of his cheeks now rescinding into a healthy blush.

"W-what! Of course not!" Fred sputtered turning his attention to the little girl who was the reason for this whole mess before smiling, "But, Georgie, don't you think _you_ should pick her up?"

"Ehhh, for Merlin's sake, why me?"

"Well, I think she's grown quite fond of you." Fred declared, pointing at the little girl's feeble attempt to climb up George's leg. George, suddenly noticing the little bundle clawing up his side, watched as the tiny girl struggled up the seams of his robe before falling gracelessly onto the pallid floor with a soft "oomph"! Undiscouraged, she got up again and grabbed a hold of his robes mercilessly in her small clenched hands. _Great, _he thought,_ now I'm going to have to explain to Mum why there's small holes in my robes. For a small kid she sure has sharp nails. I hope she doesn't damage them too much…. Wait are those t-teeth marks? _Sympathizing (slightly) with the kid, he stretched his leg outward, hoping it would help her hold on, and if not at least his shoe could cushion her fall.

"But…" he began looking up to face his smiling twin again before continuing, "Er, but how do you pick up a thing like that?" George questioned, a grim expression on his face as he peered down to look at the child who was clutching to the fabric of his robes as if for dear life, a determined and content smile on her flushed face.

"…."

"…"

"I haven't the bloodiest clue."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **

I fail. Completely and utterly….

Ughhh… Somehow, I can't seem to keep the characters in character for the life of me. Though I hope they didn't seem _too_ off. But wouldn't it be hilarious to see Crabbe and Goyle dance to Britney spears? ;) Also, sorry if it seemed a little bit choppy, I have a bad habit (yes, another one), of copying and pasting sentences around. I was in too much of a rush to upload this one, so I apologize if there are any grammar mistakes.

And for some reason, I couldn't remember what their work robes looked like. It was magenta, wasn't it….? Er…I hope.

And, I just love little Hermione…so adorable!

…

Alright, since I'm done with my rant,

Thank you for all the reviews! It really made my day.

So thank you for putting up with me, and of course, thanks for reading! The next chapter will be up in (hopefully) two weeks.


	3. As Easy As

**Title:** Puerile

**Rating: T **for innuendoes, language, and bad attempt at humor

**Disclaimer:** Sadly I do not own Harry Potter. (But I am working on it! Do you think J.K. Rowling takes bribes? I make a great snicker doodle).

**A/N:** *Laughs nervously* Remember what I said about updating in two weeks? Well, that was completely thrown out the window. *Murders physics book*. But here is chapter 2! It's a little shorter than the other chapter (i think), but I didn't want to drag it out (completely failed though). Anyway, since this is somewhat AU, most of the characters are still alive (I just can't handle the thought of them actually being dead)… and somewhat ooc (don't kill me!). I tried to keep them in character, but angsty, depressed trio and friends take all the humor out a story (not that I have anything against angst, *once again tackles physics book). Sorry, If it's slightly boring, but it'll be more interesting, I swear!

**Warning: **Weasley twins, a five year old Hermione, and a disgruntled Draco Malfoy. Must I say more?

**Chapter 2:** As easy as …

* * *

><p><strong>Puerile (adjective):<strong>

**Silly;** regarded as childishly silly or immature

**Relating to Childhood;** relating to or the characteristic of childhood

* * *

><p>"Ahhh! For the love of Merlin, why the bloody hell is it so hot?" Ron groaned as he threw himself back, his face flushed red, and his back against the untamed grass of the burrow's little garden. While he enjoys summer and all, but days like these really made him wish he could dunk himself in a mountain of snow and never come out. <em>Ahh… what I wouldn't give to be an ice cube!<em> His hair was sticky and wet, hanging in sweaty clumps at the tip of his forehead, and his limbs felt as if they were crying from the bloody heat. Rolling over and spreading out on the grass, Ron could feel another presence plop next to him as he stretch his limbs out in a snow angel formation. _Ahhh…snow._

"I feel like I just got baked by a karkaroff!" Harry tiredly exclaimed. His limbs felt achingly sore and he couldn't move them without exhibiting some form of masochism. _Bloody Boggarts, Ginny really could hit a bludger_.

"Well technically you almost did, remember?" Ron responded, a big grin on his face before he winced as the muscles in his face refused to be exerted.

"Don't remind me", Harry said drearily.

"I can't feel my muscles anymore. Damn it, I can't even smile without feeling sore".

"I know what you mean." Ginny replied as she ungracefully fell right next to Harry taking his right side as Ron already claimed the other. "Oh, and sorry about the bludger Harry", she said, a bashful but playful smile on her lips.

"You nearly knocked me off my broom", he teasingly whined as he turned on his side to face her.

"Well, I didn't have the twins as my brothers for nothing". Harry couldn't do anything but nod.

"Speaking of Fred and George, where are they anyway?" Ron questioned as he tilted his head towards the house, biting back another groan as he did so.

"Not sure, they said something about going to check on the shop I think", Harry dryly remarked, tentatively moving around a few fingers.

"I hope they haven't done anything bad", Ginny heavily breathed out. At the unbelieving stares she received from the two boys, she quickly amended, "well…too bad".

* * *

><p>Peering down at Hermione's face, Fred and George couldn't help but blush as her small cherub features continually lit up in a bright grin. With those chubby cheeks, button like nose, and incredibly large eyes, they had to admit that she was downright adorable. Leaning a little closer, Fred faced the small girl as she fidgeted upon the counter of their shop with her legs swinging dangerously close to their abdomens (and other er- male body parts) from her newly perched height. George, however, looked at the bundle with a slight grimace, while his hands gently rubbed the newly made scratched above his forearm where somehow the tiny Hermione had managed to dig her claws into him when he had tried to pick her up. Apparently, even in her miniature form, Hermione was still quite adverse to the counter.<p>

"So, ummm, do you know who I am?" Fred asked hesitantly as he peered deeply into her face while her eyes searched his features.

"Of wourse I do!" She shouted in a very joyous manner. "You're Fed!" This she said with a big flourish as she made a large movement to point at him.

Holding back his chuckle at the girl's impromptu name for his twin, George stood next to his brother and gave her a slight pat on the head. "Now aren't you a smart girl" he said, grinning at her enthusiastic nod while he pointed to himself, "Well do you know who I am?"

For a few seconds she was quiet, but then with a bright smile she shouted "Reorge!"

"Er- you mean George?" George quickly corrected her as she tilted her head slightly to the side.

After a few seconds, she shook her tiny head in response, her hair fanning out and whipping about, while doggedly pointed to him and spoke, "No…Reorge!"

Sighing, he pointed to himself and shook his head, "No, 'mione, I'm George. Ge-or-ge", he said while enunciating each sound.

Shaking her head again she adamantly persisted, "Reorge!"

"George"

"Reorge!"

"Ggggggg-eorge"

"Rrrrrrr-eorge!"

"Ggggggggggg-eor- ahhh!" he finished as Fred chucked him slightly on the shoulder.

"Oh, blimey boggarts, you're not bloody arguing with a little kid are you, Georgie?" Fred asked his twin with a clearly amused expression on his face, "Or should I say Reorgie?"

"Rrrrrrr-eor-ehhhh?" Hermione questioned dazedly while giving them a toothy grin.

"Ah, yes, my bad, so it's Rrrrrrr-eor-ahhhh!" Fred laughed as his face broke into a large grin.

"Can it Fred". George threatened as he lifted a fist, his face quickly turning the same shade of red as his hair as he looked sideways.

"Sorry, mate". Fred apologized; his lips were still twitching.

Hurried to change the topic, George quickly glanced back to the tiny girl at the stone counter who was still swinging her short legs exuberantly and looked blissfully content at pulling on the sleeves of his robes. "Well, she definitely knows who we are", George said, turning back to his twin with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Yeah, considering she already said our names" Fred reminded him. "Well tried to say our names anyway". He snickered again.

George fought down the urge to blush - again. He was sure that if any more blood were to rush to his face, he would die of a trauma induced headache caused by too much oxygen in the brain or perhaps die of losing too much blood when they had to amputate his limbs because of oxygen deprivation to the other parts of his body. Anyhow, neither seemed like a good way to go.

"I know, but we can't be too sure. Besides it seems that while she knows who we are, er- kind of, she doesn't completely remember everything. It seems as though not only did she revert into a five year old, but her memories are somewhat suppressed too".

Nodding, Fred couldn't help but joke lightly, "If she did, she would probably hex us till the next blue moon and then bring us back so she could hex us again".

"Somehow, I wouldn't doubt that at all". George agreed with a nod and silently glad that her wand was far out of her reach.

"But..." Fred started, his face unsure as he motioned his twin closer, "for now, what are we supposed to do with her?" he continued asking.

"Well, Fed, my darling brother, isn't that a swell question?"

"Well, Reorge, I believe it is. Now answer the question".

"We keep her of course!"

"…"

"Well, do you have a better suggestion, dear brother?" George sarcastically remarked.

"No, I just meant, how are _we _going to _keep_ her". Fred responded, casting a small glance towards Hermione who was now happily tugging on his robes –again, _how did she get down?_ "We can't just _take_ her with us". He made sure to emphasize the words, strongly.

Sighing, George picked up the little bundle from his brother's robes and placed her right in front of his twin. His hands were right under her arms (they finally decided after multiple attempts that they could pick her up in that manner without causing either sides any serious injuries) and the blouse she had on earlier acted as a makeshift dress which ended slightly below her knees. Hermione instantly pouted, her cheeks puffed out cutely in defiance, as she felt tugged away from the soft fabric she was contentedly clutching (swinging on, rather).

"Reorge…?" She questioned with a soft tentative voice. Once again, she tilted her head to the side and peered at him with the same large owlish eyes.

"Are you suggesting we just abandoned her?" George asked with mock sadness as he placed her increasingly closer to Fred's face. Fred couldn't help but blush again and he felt his ears go hot under her stare. Why did she have to have such _big_ eyes!

"No, you know what I meant…"

George lifted one brow and brought little Hermione closer. "Fed…"

Feeling like the biggest jerk in the world, Fred sighed and shoved a hand through his disheveled red locks. "We can't t-take her…"

"Fed…"

"We c-can't h-hide her!" For Godric's sake, he was stuttering!

"Fed…"

He felt his resolve slipping away.

"Fed…!" She pouted.

"W-what if M-mum finds ou-…"

Hermione was freely swinging her legs as George still held her up and her small tiny hands reached out towards Fred as she smiled, her cheeks dimpling slightly. "Fed…!"

"I mean we could always send her to an orphanage for the time being…" George started uncertainly.

"Blimey, no!" Fred quickly shouted, looking appalled at the idea.

"But what are we going to do then?" George asked with a knowing smirk.

"Er…well, we have to take her with us". Fred admitted, hanging his head in defeat and remorse for almost forcing the little – adorable – kid into an orphanage.

"Yep! Isn't it great when you agree with me?"

Hermione answered for him with a big enthusiastic nod.

* * *

><p>Draco Malfoy was not happy. Granted, he was rarely happy, but today he was even more gloomy than usual. Dressed impeccably in black velvet robes, with a dark expression to match, he looked every inch of the handsome Death Eater his father's legacy had left him to be. Of course, that was before the Dark Lord was defeated. And by none other than the legendary Harry Potter, himself. Immediately he scowled. He was more annoyed by the irritating bespectacled wizard himself than by the thought of Voldemort's demise. Despite once claiming status as a Death Eater, Draco felt, possibly more than anybody, relieved. Once, he was tempted by the alluring seduction of the powers and glory that Voldemort had once secretly offered, but the thought of murder and blood the war had cause had cured him of such wretched lust. Now, he was no more than a man repenting for his sins of the past. Which thus caused him to grimace even more deeply.<p>

He was no better than anyone, now. Certainly, some would consider him even more lowly than any other for his role in the war. His father's open loyalty to Voldemort had done no better good and instead ensured him time in Azkaban for his deeds. That left the Malfoy family to crumble in wake of the scorn and contempt of the wizarding world. It was no longer the rich and illustrious clan it once was. And he, Draco Malfoy, was no longer the rich and spoiled boy, he was.

And that was exactly why he was standing at the edge of Diagon Alley with a frustrated expression on his face as he paced back and forth on the stone cobbled road. Due to his family's assets being seized, for the obstruction of good, the Ministry of Magic had so kindly put it, Draco was left in need of a job. With the little money his mother had managed to stash away, he was able to rent an apartment above the Leaky Cauldron where he begrudgingly set forth to find employment. Now, three hours later, and with numerous of "No!s" to add to his resume, he was left with no other option, and he could almost shudder to even consider it, but to seek employment at the Weasley's shop.

There was no way, any possible way that he would seek for employment there! He would rather be locked in a room with a hundred hippogriffs than to ask the Weasleys for a job. His pride just wouldn't allow it.

Muttering angrily to himself, he stalked off back into the direction of Leaky Cauldron, intent on finding some other forms of employment. Perhaps he could persuade the manager to give him a job there. However, a recent picture of large man covered in bat eye soup dissuaded him of the prospect. It wasn't like it was his fault the fat jerk trip. He just merely stuck his foot a little too far to the right. He practically had to beg, and he winced as he remembered this, to not be kicked out. He couldn't request for a job now either. Perhaps, he could ask some of the other shops again. Certainly, a 'no' was not permanent? And having a size 2 pewter cauldron thrown at you didn't signify rejection. But the thought of begging again made him scowl, he was not that desperate and Draco Malfoy did _not_ beg.

Which left him to tread irately back to where he started.

And so Draco Malfoy left the windy streets of Diagon Alley very, very unhappy.

* * *

><p>Somewhere, a crash, a shout, and three bickering kids-er adults, were making their way noisily to the little cottage tucked near the top of the hill.<p>

"Bloody Godric, Ginny, did you really have to push me?" Ron seethed, his hand nursing another bruise from his sister's well aim pat. _Pat, my ass, that was a bloody punch._

"Well, if you hadn't taken your sweet time, I wouldn't have to usher you along!"

Frustrated, Ron bellowed, "Usher! What kind of word is that?"

"Ron, don't tell me your vocabulary is substantiated by kindergarten level words". Ginny lifted one perfect brow and crossed her arms at her chest.

"No! Of course not!" He retorted acerbically.

"You don't even know by substantiate means!" Ginny countered and gave him a small lopsided smirk, a trait she developed after one too many confrontations with the twins.

"Yes I do!" He all but whined.

"No you don't!" She taunted, skipping lightly across the dirt path.

"Yeah, I do!"

"No…you don't!"

"Yeah, I do!"

"No-"

"Hey, we're almost at the burrow!" Harry pointed out, lifting one finger to the direction of the small cozy cottage facing them. Eager to escape the inevitable fight, which Ron would inevitably lose, and would inevitably drag him in as well, he made a quick dash to the doorway, leaving the bickering siblings in a cloud of green dust.

"Hey, wait up!" Harry made sure to not look back.

A few seconds later and three panting adults pushed themselves through the doorway. Glaring at the two, Ginny patted away the imaginary specks of dust on her clothes before taking off her worn white shoes and neatly lining them against the entryway. With her waist length hair swaying and a well placed stomp, she sauntered up towards Mrs. Weasley who was busying her herself with crafting lunch in the Burrow's tidy kitchen.

'Damn'. Ron cursed under his breath as Ginny's foot collided on top of his. He gave her a quick glare before he and Harry proceeded to take of their shoes as well.

Ginny gave him another smirk. _The twins really taught her well on that one._

Leaning against his best friend, Ron asked Harry in a hushed tone, "What exactly is a 'kindergarten'?"

* * *

><p>"It's getting late".<p>

"That was completely not obvious at all". Fred almost sounded worried.

"And that, Gred, was _not_ sarcasm". George looked too amused.

"It's almost _dinner_ time". Fred reminded his twin, making sure to emphasize the word dinner lest George forgot its significance. They didn't want a repeat of _that_.

Completely ignoring the urgency in Fred's voice, George stated coolly, "I heard Bill is coming back for dinner". After a slight pause, he added, "And Charlie too".

"Well, it doesn't really matter if they come, And- We're - Late". He punctuated every last word.

George stared back at him owlishly.

"Oh, hurry up, Rrrreorge!" Fred snipped loudly, irritation laced tightly into his tone as he walked briskly across the front of the shop and diligently picked up the stray whizbangs on the floor.

"Yeah, yeah, don't yell. I can hear you perfectly well". George waved a large hand in front of him as if to wave off the words.

"We have to tidy up", Fred responded, slightly unnerved by using that one particular word. It didn't feel right coming out of his mouth and he felt an unsettled sensation coiling in the pit of his stomach as if he had broken some sacred oath. Silently, he placed a hand over his heart, and quickly asked for forgiveness while he placed the misplaced whizbangs on their shelf. He slowed and paused for just a moment to toss Hermione, who was sitting amicably in a chair they had managed to transfigure, a daydream charm. She caught the trinket with a bell like giggle, and smiled broadly. He fought back another blush. Hastily, he scoured the shop again. "Mum is going to _kill_ us if we're late". _And if we're lucky, that's all she'll kill us for. _

Ignoring that statement, George watched his twin move hurriedly about in an amused manner as he leaned carelessly against the stair banisters. Making sure his face was set in a tight grimace, and that his lips were not twitching, he added as casually as he could, "You know, I think I almost saw Draco".

"Draco?" Fred didn't miss a beat and continued arranging the canary creams on the shelf.

George blinked twice. "Yeah, he was standing near Borgin's & Burkes. He almost looked like he was glaring at us".

"I can't imagine why". Moving onto the toffee, Fred made sure the perilous candy was stacked neatly in the jars.

"I mean we only put his dad in Azkaban, made his life miserable, and pranked him…once or twice". George sounded entirely too cheerful.

"Why would Draco Malfoy be here?" Fred picked up a rolling telescope near the corner of the shop.

"How in Merlin's name should I know? It's not like I'm chummy with him or whatnot". He was still eyeing his twin brother. Maybe all the smoke from their last experiment finally caught up to him. Then tossing little Hermione a small smirk, which she returned, he called out, "You missed a spot", and pointed to a far corner of the shop. Fred busily went to inspect it.

Waiting until Fred reached the far end, "You know, you could just use magic", George pointed out with a raise brow. His grin was still firmly in place.

Fred froze. George made sure he was close enough to cup his hands over Hermione's ears.

* * *

><p>"Oh, Harry dear, would you mind passing me the carrots? No not those. The chopped ones" She pointed to the pile of orange squares at his right. "Ah, yes, those right there. Thank you, dear".<p>

"No problem Mrs. Weasley", Harry replied politely, and added an extra head bow to show his respectfulness.

Ron smiled sweetly, "Mum, would like any help?"

"Oh, thank you dear, but I'm almost done".

Ginny nodded in relief. Nodding to Harry, the three were about to slip away when-

"I'm so hungry!" Bill proclaimed his entrance loudly. Shuffling into the kitchen, he sauntered to the table, not noticing the narrowed eyes sent his way. Ron and Harry gulped quietly. Their relief was quick to disappear.

"So… what's for dinner?" Bill asked, a little too enthusiastically as he patted his stomach with longing. Ginny nudged his feet with a warning glare.

"But I'm so hung-" Another nudge.

Those eyes were practically slits.

Her brother stubbornly, and stupidly, continued, "I'm hungr-"

"William!"

"Er- I can stir the soup…?"

"Please do". Patting her hands on her meticulously white apron, Molly Weasley smiled at her oldest son and passed him a heavy ladle as Harry, Ron and Ginny nervously laughed.

There were few things that could get Mrs. Weasley riled up. One was the twins. Two was the mention of said twins within any physical, literal, or metaphorical sense of mischief (though one would've thought that after 19 years, she would at least get used to it). And three, was the Weasley Dinner, which anyone, who cared to live peacefully that is, made sure to dutifully attend.

Always, the charming hostess, Mrs. Weasley was a generous and gracious person. To Harry and Hermione, she was like their second mother. However, dinner was the one event she refused to tolerate any improper behavior. Even the twins, known for their mischief, knew better than to cross her at that time of day. She was practically like a bear out of hibernation. Of course, they took thorough care not to let her know that.

Turning to the other three occupants of the room, she gave them a small smile.

"I'll chop the onions".

"I'll cut the lettuce".

"I'll wash the egg…?"

She nodded amiably. Then turning and setting her sights back to the roast at the middle of the counter top, Mrs. Weasley mused casually, "Where are the twins?"

"errr…" Ginny decided the best course of action was quiet submission.

Delicately taking out a knife from her apron, she sharpened it along the edges of another knife. "I've sent Hermione to get them, but I haven't heard from them at all".

The three men followed Ginny's example of silence.

"I hope they're not giving her too much trouble". This she said as she jabbed the knife through the roast.

* * *

><p>"Ac-choo!"<p>

"Damn, bloody dust". Fred grumbled, sniffling slightly as he scratched his nose.

"My, aren't you in a hurry".

"Well, I apologize, but I rather not be murdered so young". Fred gave George an amused but pointed look as he carefully turned to Hermione.

"Mum is more likely to torture you than kill you". George corrected his twin with an even tone.

"And how is that suppose to make me feel reassured?" Fred lifted one brow. Placing his hands under Hermione's arms, he picked her up as gently as he could and settled her at his hip with one arm wrapped behind her.

Turning to the front of the shop, George started, "Well-"and immediately quieted.

"What, George?"

"…"

"Forge?" Fred paced back to where George was standing, wide-eyed and mouth agape.

"…"

"Reorge?"

Hermione gave George a slight poke in the cheek.

"…" Another poke.

No response.

Growling, Fred gave his brother a slight tap on the head.

Blinking dazedly, George turned to his twin. "Fred…" George muttered softly, unsurely, if Fred hadn't been looking at him, he wouldn't have realized George said anything at all.

"Yes, George?" Fred turned to him in confusion, his arm still beneath Hermione who sat pleasantly on the crook of his elbow.

George chose to not reply and instead pointed weakly to a small pile at the base of the counter. His face was deathly pale as if all the color had suddenly rush out of him. Even his hair seemed whiter than usual.

Fred gave him anther confused look.

Squeaking slightly, George pointed to the untidy pile again. His eyes were still unblinking.

Tilting his head to the side, Fred looked at the pile again. Clothes? It was just Hermione's clot- and realization finally dawned on him.

He nearly groaned in frustration.

Because there, staring at them from the upswept stone floor, amidst the muddled pile of robes and clothes was a pair of dainty pink undergarments.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Alright. Done… FINALLY. Now excuse me as I go pound my head against a wall (as an apology for the numerous of grammar mistakes somewhere in there and for the ooc-ness) Also, I'm really sorry that there really wasn't much progress to this chapter. It's more of a filler to introduce everything, and is meant just to set the tone. Truthfully, I don't really even know what I was doing concerning this chapter. I re-edited it so many times, (and un re-edited too), that I can hardly tell what's in the chapter and what's not. (I blame this on sleep deprivation and mindless hours of calculus). I nearly cringed at my sad excuse for humor in this chapter.

*pounds head again

*seconds later

Moving on, I want to say "Thank you!" to everyone who's been reading my story so far and have been putting up with my horrible updating schedule. It means a lot to me that people are reading my story and are actually happy with it!

So THANKS!

Hopefully, I can get to updating more… but I make no promises with school looming over my head. _*Seriously tempted to burn physics book_


	4. As Easy As Part II

**Title:** Puerile

**Rating: T **for innuendoes, language, and possibly disturbing scenes

**Disclaimer:** Sadly I do not own Harry Potter. I don't think J.k. Rowling likes snicker doodles.

**A/N:** *Sweats* Sorry about not updating… (I really am!) But here is chapter 3! Anyway, since this is somewhat AU, most of the characters are still alive (I just can't handle the thought of them actually being dead)… and somewhat ooc (don't kill me!). I tried to keep them in character, but angsty, depressed trio and friends take all the humor out a story.

**Warning: **Insanely copious amounts of goo-inducing fluff. And irritated Ginny Weasley.

**Chapter 2, part 2:**

* * *

><p>"Reorge?"<p>

Silence.

"Fed?"

Again, no answer. The silence was nearly deafening.

_Shhh…_

A small ruffle of fabric.

Hfff…

An echo of breath.

It was _too_ quiet; the tension in the air was smoky, thick and it curled around the three figures hazily, two were hunching and panting softly while the third was watching with gullible amusement. Apart from the tiny shuffling of their bodies, the only other noise was whisper of fabric and cloth as it was strewn across the floor.

Another bout of silence ensued. With a small frown tugging at the corner of her pink lips, Hermione squinted her almond eyes slightly and held a small pale hand up, shielding her eyes from the lone shaft of light that penetrated through the decrepit opening in the slanted windows. It was late evening and the cool light of dusk was just beginning to settle in the cozy horizon. Seated on top of a rusty faded burgundy chest, she kicked her dainty feet against the creaking wood and pouted. The silence was unnerving her. For some reason she couldn't put the lack of noise together with her two tall red headed friends, even if they were acting just a _tad_ strange.

There was a small shuffling of footsteps.

_pttff. _

"George, move over will you?" She heard one them whisper brusquely.

There was an indifferent huff and seconds later the voice replied, "Why should I?"

"Because I want to be on top" _Top._ Biting her lip timidly, she mustered a small frown as her brow creased; she didn't know why that should matter. She leaned forward eagerly to hear.

"What the bloody hell? There's no way, you're going to be on top!" It was nearly a hiss.

There little Hermione giggled. Her two friends were very funny.

She was about to laugh out loud when a small rumbling noise made her frown nervously and she quickly decided to call their names again.

Still blissfully unaware of her small pleas, Fred and George bickered silently as they flung another article of clothing to the increasingly large pile of clothes in front of her on the small sturdy bed. Determined, Hermione giggled as she hopped of the chest and smiled brightly as she tugged lightly at their pants, hoping to get their attention.

Feeling a small tug at his knees, George bent down and picked the tiny girl up, placing her on the edge of the creaky bed as he aimlessly grabbed a small brown teddy bear and placed it gently into her arms. With a sigh, Fred stopped his perusing and putting on a soft smile, he turned to the tiny girl behind him. "Mione, er- be…" He paused and swallowed thickly. "…good, alright?"

"Goog?" she cocked her head to the side.

Fighting off a grimace, he croaked out again, "Good". She nodded brightly before plopping down on the fluffy covers of the bed, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

* * *

><p>"What in Merlin's name are they doing?" Mrs. Weasley was asking with exasperation. Her brown eyes were narrowed with a cold glint and a grimace was carved ruefully onto her face. Slowly she raised one hand to her hip. Ron couldn't help but let out a squeak. Curious, Harry turned to his friend with a questioning glance and mentally ran down the list Charlie and Bill had provided him the first time he had been invited to dinner.<p>

No tapping fingers at the dinner table. Or a glare would be sent your way.

One glare meant "Stop and I won't hurt you".

Two glares and it was no longer a threat. It was inevitable and likely painful.

Three glares and… Charlie stopped talking at that.

Bill had patted his back reassuringly and continued.

No slurping. Slurping would be received with narrowed eyes.

Narrowed eyes promised pain, Bill had told him sagely.

There was also no clinking glass. No elbows. No punches. No slaps. (The last three were mainly directed at Bill and Charlie) No tardiness was the newly imposed rule into this category as well (It was bumped up from narrowed eyes).

And most importantly, no magic either.

All of those were rewarded with one hand on the hip. Harry bit his lip as he remembered.

One hand on hip translated to, for lack of better words Bill described, "You are in deep shit". And Harry had only seen it in action before twice. Once, when he and Ron accidently burnt the counter top when they were attempting to make a sandwich (apparently wizard's hot sauce was different). Secondly, was when George accidently tossed a quaffle through the window and it had miraculously landed in the steaming pot of chicken soup Mrs. Weasley was preparing. The same one she was constantly stirring all day long. That was the first time that Harry Potter had ever squealed. He even faced Voldemort for Godric's sake. Pulling himself upright, he kept his face impassive; he was not going to squeal _now_.

Watching the seconds ticked off menacingly as he worriedly eyed his watch, Harry placed a comforting hand on Ron's shoulder.

Mrs. Weasley turned to stare at her youngest son and raised an eyebrow.

Gulping, Ron felt the sudden urge to back away with his hands in the air. "I-I'm not s-sure". He choked out nervously.

"Don't they know what time it is?" She made sure to punctuate the word time. She turned to Ginny.

"I-I'll go check". And she dashed off with a large sigh of relief as Ron and Harry glared at her retreating figure with envy.

* * *

><p>Taking the stairs to the upper floors where the bedrooms were situated three at a time, Ginny hurried agilely through the weaving slopes of wooden steps. What the hell could they be doing? After last time they should at least know to get to the dinner table by now.<p>

Sighing, and roughly pulling back a strand of auburn hair that came loose behind her ear, she took a sharp turn left to face a bright orange – and she shuddered, green- door. Not even bothering to knock (not that she ever did anyway) she kicked the door open with the heel of her foot, quietly of course; no need to explain to mum why the hinges came loose…again.

Steeling herself for the apocalyptic mess (she would have to thank Harry for furthering her vocabulary of strange muggle words) she would receive as she step in, she mentally took a deep swallow of air and held her breath, ready to lunge an attack at her two idiotic elder brothers.

"George! Fred! You get your arses down there now or else –" she stopped. There was silence.

Strange. It was awfully quiet. Too quiet.

She squinted her eyes as she glared around the room. There was nothing to be seen; of course this was discounting the numerous masses of piled robes, books, and quills; why they couldn't use magic to clean it was beyond her understanding.

She lingered for another second, disdainfully eyeing the bubbling chest to the far right corner as she was just about to step out, shoulders sagging with relief that even though the twins weren't in their rooms nothing _else_ was.

Instead she found herself face to face with a pair of blue boxers that dangled over the door frame.

She felt her eye twitch irritatedly as her fingers felt along the edges of her skirt for her wand.

She idly wondered if pleading for the sake of her sanity would hold up in court for attempted murder. Besides it was for the _good _of wizard-kind.

* * *

><p>"Oi, Georgie, did you feel that?"<p>

"Feel what?" George asked confusedly, his lips twitched in a worried frown.

"_That_". Fred answered glancing fretfully towards the door.

Breathing deeply, George answered with surprising calmness, "You're just paranoid". Fred gave him a skeptical look as he saw Hermione glancing curiously at him; her face was scrunched up amusedly. He was sure he felt a strange aura just now. Almost as if something was out to get them. Giving George another doubtful look, he turned back to the task at hand as he shrugged off the feeling nervously. This was the most important priority anyway.

* * *

><p>Indignantly stomping her way through the hall, Ginny felt her teeth clenched as she searched another room to no avail. <em>Where the bloody hell could they be?<em> She was just about to kick another door open, this one she hazily remembered being Harry's room, before a slight rustling of wood of fabric made her froze.

Inching her way slowly towards the noise lest her footsteps would give her position away, she closed the distance between herself and the doorframe with increasing dread.

Forget murdering them, she was going to hand their arses over to mum.

Throwing another pink and shudderingly frilly dress behind him, George was practically raving, "How hard is it to find one bloody pair of knickers!"

"Shush, Forge".

"You shut it".

"Why you-"

His voice of cut off as a small lithe figure appeared in the hall, her aura frightfully agitated as she stalked her way towards them. "What the hell are you doing?" Ginny narrowed her eyes in accusation. At most attempted murder could _only_ get her a few years in Azkaban.

Quicker than he realized he was capable of moving, George grabbed the covers atop the frilly white bed and threw it over Hermione's head. Then he dove back under the mountain of clothes they managed to pilfer, er- find.

"Nothing!" they answered slightly too fast.

"No…?" She asked as she crossed her slender arms beneath her chest, "Then why in bloody Merlin's name are you in _here_?" Her tone was harsh and cold; slightly breaking towards the end as she registered the damage they had done to the room. Her room! How in the world had they managed to pile so many clothes! She could have sworn that she didn't even own _that_ many shirts or pairs of socks. Not to mention there was so much pink and frills and lace! And what was that frightening pink concoction that was dangling of the edges of her bed? She thought she had burned that thing.

"We –er were looking for…" George mumbled before he could think as he glanced over to the odd sight that was Hermione beneath the bed covers. She stuck out like Hagrid in a sequined pink robe. He prayed that Ginny would at least not notice the brown curls sticking from beneath the fluffy fabric. They could barely explain their presence (very unwanted presence) in her room without mentioning her. And there was no way, they could explain that.

"For…?"

"Something" Fred said quickly before George could open his mouth. Ginny raised both eyebrows and stared at them impatiently with her arms still crossed. Heaving out a tired sigh, she gritted her teeth in annoyance as she attempted to reign in her anger. She should wait until _after_ dinner to plot extermination.

Nervously tapping on the wooden frame, Fred coughed awkwardly and placed himself between his sister and the door way.

As casually as he could manage, he leaned gently over the door frame and coolly replied, "It's nothing".

"Nothing?" She repeated with a raised brow as she glanced at the strange masses on her bed. There was cloth, feathers, and …hair? She clenched her jaw audibly, it was really too tempting to hex him. Azkaban could not be _that_ bad.

Nodding their heads, both twins echoed her cheerily. "Nothing!"

Unperturbed, Ginny merely glared at them, the hazel eyes hardening to a misty jade. "Then please enlighten me as to why in the bloody hell you two are in _my_ room?" She emphasized the word 'my' by baring her canines.

Throwing a quick glare at his twin, Fred shuffled his weight to the right and tilted his head to the side to block Ginny's view of the room.

"Like we said," he started as he rubbed a hand to the back of his neck and nervously kneaded the tightening muscles there, "we were…looking for something".

"In my room?" She emphasized the word again.

Not trusting his voice, Fred merely nodded and gave her a sheepish smile.

Ginny responded with another glare as tried to loosen her grip on her wand. Explaining to Harry why she needed his help in hiding their bodies was not a promising option. Narrowing her eyes in suspicion, she pointed to his own wand.

"Well", she paused and looked quickly around the room, "can't you just use your wand?"

Fred didn't reply but gave her a glance and turned tilted his head down wards, towards the area of the kitchen.

"Oh right, that". Ginny mumbled, as she remembered rule number one; no magic during dinner time. Her lips twitched back in amusement before she frowned. Damn it. It also meant _she_ couldn't hex them.

"Yes that". George sarcastically muttered, his hands were still buried beneath the mountains of clothes.

"But even if you couldn't use your wand, this", she stressed by directing a hand at the mess on her bed (and the mob of brown curls that seemed to be shaking with giggles) "was completely unnecessary!" She said the last part with an angry huff and stomped her foot resentfully.

George chuckled apprehensively, "Er- well about that…"

"We'll take care of it." Fred finished as he placed a hand on the back of the door; his lips were curved in a satisfied smirk.

"You better!" Ginny threatened darkly. She was about to open her mouth again when she was face to face with her large oaken door.

Grunting, she gave it a good kick.

_Stupid older brothers_, she muttered as she made her way back to the kitchen, contemplating the odds of slipping them a few hexes without Mrs. Weasley finding out.

* * *

><p>"That was bloody close". George sighed as he fell backwards to the floor. With a hard look to the pile of clothes that was threatening to spill out over the bed, he tiredly grumbled, "stupid knickers".<p>

"Agreed".

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thank you for all the lovely reviews! It made me really happy to read them! Also, thanks to everyone who read my story and kept up so far!

On another note, why did the first scene sound so….. wrong? I didn't notice it until I reread it. Maybe my subconscious is trying to tell me something.

This is more a continuation of the previous chapter than it is a new chapter. There's supposed to be another scene with this, but I felt that I owed you something for being so inactive so I figured I'll just published this as part 2 of Chapter 2 rather than struggle through another month or more for the next scene and be pronounced dead. But I hate that this chapter is so short. Usually I have a minimum of how many words I write, before I publish something. But I've been so busy that I barely have time to breathe let alone write.

And somehow, I feel like this story gets sillier with every chapter and not in a good way. I would blame it on the numerous of math equations that I should be doing (and completely avoiding) but I think it's because of my writing style. I'm trying to use another writing style that I normally wouldn't use, so it's been quite hard to write and make it not sound like it was done by a fifth grader. I'm somewhat debating on whether or not to revert to my other style but I don't think it would fit this story as well. And speaking of having trouble writing, I apologize again for the super long update. But as an apology for not updating in about a month(-ish), I promise I will try my utmost best ability to update the next chapter within 2 weeks.

As a way to show you that I really am not dying and that I will update, here's a short tiny snippet of the next chapter!

oXoXoXoXo

"Bill…?" She glanced upwards at the large man in front of her whose face was open in a big toothy grin. Titling her faces towards him, she beamed him a large smile as he placed a hand atop her head, ruffling the brown curls gently.

"Yeah, Hermione?"

"Are you going to be on top? That's what Fred wanted."

Fred almost choked.


	5. Hide and Seek

**Title:** Puerile

**Rating: T **for innuendoes, language, and possibly disturbing scenes

**Disclaimer:** According to Wikipedia, somebody named J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.

**A/N:** Gasp! I updated.

**Warning: **A five year old Hermione, a disgruntled Draco Malfoy, and Weasley twins on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Must I say more?

**Chapter 4:** Hide and Seek

* * *

><p>"Ow!"<p>

"Bugger off".

Ginny smiled pleasantly as she inconspicuously settled her foot on top of Fred's and gave it a good stomp. Pausing for a second, she kicked his ankle for good measure. There were certain benefits to being seated far away from Mrs. Weasley. Besides since she couldn't hex them, she would have to settle for these "softer" attacks. She did it all while beaming Harry an innocent smile.

"You know, where's Hermione?" Her tone turned accusatory as she twisted her neck to settle her eyes on the twins.

Fred stiffened and choked to keep from spewing a mouthful of soup onto the table, spewing was very bad manners he had been told, "I haven't seen her at all." He gave her what he hoped was a believable smile; however his face was changing slightly green and red as he breathed in air heavily through his nose. _What in the bloody world was in that soup? _"At all", he insisted again.

"Yep! Not at all" George answered rapidly behind, chuckling nervously as he saw Ginny blatantly ignoring their silent pleas.

Taking a large bite of melon bread, and chewing thoughtfully, "Yet she wouldn't be late…" Ginny trailed off.

"Not the slightest! Yep, we have absolutely, positively, no idea in Merlin's name where in the world she could possibly be!" Fred finished with a slight laugh as he awkwardly turned his eyes sideways, fingering the tip of his spoon as he saw the corners of Mrs. Weasley's mouth twitched downward. Her usual warm brown eyes sparked in suspicion as she placidly sipped at the swirling soup. Bill and Charlie snickered behind their cups of pumpkin juice, glass clinking and juice frothing with movement over the rims, but with another well aimed kick from their beloved sister, they quickly ducked their heads down as Mrs. Weasley's eyes sharpened towards them. They could (and most certainly would) laugh at the twins' expense later.

"I mean, yeah we reall-gahh!" George stuffed a large piece of pumpkin bread into his mouth; Fred sputtered.

"What Freddie here means to say is that we haven't even had the smallest sight of Hermione" George spoke hastily and offered a smile; silently praying to every single deity he could conjure up that his voice did not crack. _Jumping hippogriffs, and howling werewolves, for all that is bloody holy!_

Settling down her fork, and nodding thoughtfully to the side, Mrs. Weasley responded softly, "Didn't you see her? I sent her to get you two after all." The twins gulped simultaneously.

"N-not at all".

* * *

><p>"Crying mandrakes! That was bloody awful!" George turned to Fred as he locked the brilliantly bright orange door behind him. (He paused for only a second to admire the –theirs actually- lovely handiwork).<p>

Fred gave him an apathetic glance and rubbed his eyes tiredly, "Awful? At least you didn't have to sit next to Ginny! I swear that little snipe nearly poked a hole through my shin!" He then ran a hand through his tangled hair before making his way decidedly to the far end of the room where the bundle of their troubles giggled loudly.

Upside down.

On the bloody _ceiling_.

Fred stopped himself from slapping his face against the floor. For the love of Merlin, how did she even _manage_ that!

"Mione-er Hermione…?"

The walls ranged with another bout of giggles as she swung absentmindedly. Her knees were hooked along a thin wooden beam that ran across the top of their room, and her body was positioned so that she was hung inverted… ten freaking feet above the heavily cluttered floor. She waved to them with stiff jarring movements, huffing slightly to get the strands of thick brown hair out of her eyes. "Fed! Fwed!" She gave him a brilliant smile, her frantic waving jerking her body back and forth as her hair hung like a thick curtain of fur.

Fred sighed. George quickly bounded across the bed, and stood next to his twin with a look of resignation. _Was this what they called karma?_

"Hermione…how did you get up?" he asked her gently, wincing slightly as she swung a particularly violent lurch forward.

Hermione gave them an amused look and settled her arms to her side as she kicked her right leg backwards, shifting her momentum slightly higher. This playground was _fun_. Then nibbling her lower lip tentatively, her face screwed up in childlike wonder, she replied curiously, "Wup where?"

George swallowed his impatience and pointed to the ceiling, "Wup there', he mimicked her pronunciation.

"Here?" She imitated his gesture, and pointed to the beam she was situated on.

"Yes".

"I wumped!"

George shared a confused look with his twin and echoed in a puzzled tone, "wumped?"

"mmhmm! Wumped". She nodded pointedly, and attempted to raise an eyebrow. Well, it looks like she didn't forget _that,_ Fred mentally noted.

George returned her look with his own set of upraised brows, "and how exactly did you…wumped?"

Hermione brightened at his question, and parted her lips to answer. George waited for her response but before she sounded out her reply, she gave him an enthusiastic grin. She would _show_ him. Quickly, with nimble reflexes and an agile grace that on any other given day, and certainly _situation_, the twins would have admired, she unhooked her knees from the creaky beam and fell.

Fell.

Fell.

_Fell._

The twins felt twenty years of their lives seeped out.

With a thud, she flipped forward and landed wobbly on her feet. Then she ambled, her gait still unsteady, towards the clothes strewn bed to the left. A large red "F" adorned the blue covers which were scrunched up to one side, revealing layers of cloth, parchment, and books (and something that was suspiciously blue). She grabbed the thick covers with small tugs, and after a few seconds of grunts and kicks, she pulled herself onto the soft cushions. "I wumped!" she declared with bursting enthusiasm and she emphasized "wumped" by bending her knees and kicking off the bed. The highly –why- the-bloody-hell-was-it-that-bouncy- bed.

Fred and George were deathly silent. She wumped indeed….

* * *

><p>"Something's off"<p>

"Something's _always_ off. This is where the twins live, remember?" Harry drawled with lazy gestures, as if the point was entirely too obvious. Lying with his back against the rugged floor of the burrow's warm living room, he turned to Ginny who was pacing back and forth with dizzying movements. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Ron shuffling closer to the green flames in the stone enameled fireplace; the edges of the embers licked and snapped at the charred wooden logs, which never actually burned of course. He counted off the ticks of the clock and pulled at his sweater uneasily, his green eyes darkening as they focused on Ginny.

She sighed and rolled her eyes as she puffed her cheeks wearily, "You know what I mean". She brushed off the imaginary dust off her skirt again, and decidedly began to pace as before. Harry counted her movements, and just as he got to four, he sat up, crossing his legs beneath him, and laid his cheek against his palm. _Eight, nine, ten, now._

"Something's definitely off". She narrowed her eyes, Mum had only said no magic _during_ dinner. Not _after_. Cocking her head to one side, as tapped her wand musingly to her chin, she loudly questioned the other two, "Besides, isn't it weird that Hermione wasn't at dinner?"

Ron nodded; everyone knew what a Weasley dinner meant. And he was certain Hermione hadn't gone barmy – or suicidal- yet. He turned to Harry, who was resettling his glasses straight, and his sister. Without gesturing they all sighed in unison, "twins".

* * *

><p>"Fed"<p>

He was close to going mental.

"Fed?"

"Yes?" He asked with exasperation, a tired and frustrated edge apparent in his voice. He could still hear the blood pumping wildly in his ears; the symptoms of his mini-heart attack still clung heavily to his fatigue. Voldemort and Death eaters be damned. This little girl, he chuckled bitterly at that, _little_, was going to be the death of him. He was going to either die from panic, stress, or mind-numbingly cute antics, or even likelier, all three. Or, he looked at George; he would go off his rockers. He frowned thoughtfully, white did not look good on him.

Smile disappearing, Hermione flinched at the cold steel in his voice and looked away. She could feel the moisture bubble at the bottom of her lashes and held back a sniffle. Immediately feeling a wave of guilt hit him, Fred forced a small smile hoping it would placate her, "Sorry, Hermione. I'm just tired", He told her sincerely, hoping that she wouldn't cry. _Anything_ but that. He shifted slightly towards her, settling her on his knees as he patted her back with reassurance.

Immediately, Hermione smiled broadly in understanding and toothily shouted, "thas' okay, Fed!". Then, nodding brightly, she clasped her tiny hands onto his and gave them a slight squeeze before patting his head lightly in a manner as if she was trying to appease a lost puppy. It only made him feel even guiltier.

Smiling ruefully, Fred ruffled her hair, "So what was it you want to tell me?"

"Rell, I-er" Fred chucked as she mixed up her Ws.

"Hermione, didn't we tell you? 'Er' isn't a word". He couldn't help but smirk at her rosy cheeks.

Glancing at him nervously and too embarrassed to speak, she placed her small hands against her tummy and gave him a bashful look.

"Huh?" Fred frowned, "Is there something wrong with your tummy?" He mirrored her head tilt and looked at George.

She started to shake her head but then after a few moments of hesitation she gave him a quizzical look as if she wasn't entirely sure. Her tummy _was_ rumbling. And loudly as well. Hermione blushed cutely and looked sideways. She muttered something softly beneath her breath and turned her face down in embarrassment. Worried, George scooted closer to the blushing little girl.

"Is there something wrong, 'mione?"

"I-I'm hun-" she trailed off.

"Hermione?"

"I-I am hungry" she stuttered out quietly.

Fred looked at George who cursed.

_Shit_.

They just forgot to feed a child.

* * *

><p>"Shut it Fred! You're bloody noisy!"<p>

"Me! For Godric's sake, you sounded as if you were carrying Fluffy and Snape down the stairs!"

Fred hissed back the insult with clenched lips as he tugged lightly at Hermione's hand. Guiding the little girl down the winding stairs, he hovered for a second as she steadied herself with each step. They were just about to make it safely to the bottom floor of the burrows, when he winced as she stepped on a particularly creaky floorboard. Instead of quickly jumping off of it as he hoped -because nothing ever does-, she squealed happily, and loudly, and rolled back on the heels of her feet, extracting another high pitched creak from the old decrepit stairs.

She giggled with amusement as George quickly attempted to silence the groaning furniture, while Fred was fighting off another heart attack. Someone up there must be laughing at them. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was sure his mum had intentionally made the stairs so horribly, suspiciously creaky.

He had scoffed at the rather lame attempt – or should he say attempts- his parents made to curb their _spontaneous tendencies._ The squealing hinges, the stiff locks, the _too_ soft beds (which he had to admit were taxingly hard to get out of). But they weren't genius for nothing; they had long since figured out careful methods to sneak out. If they could sneak through Hogwarts undetected, the Burrows was simply a child's game. And besides, quidditch was so much more exciting at night, when they don't lose the bludgers that is. But, her, this little and shouldn't-be-little girl was completely and utterly making things entirely too maddening. The stairs creaked again.

"Hermione" he sighed, patting her head, "don't" and he paused "…wump". Staring at him with large owlish eyes, she pouted but nevertheless nodded enthusiastically; her hair whipping around her frantically. He felt his cheeks growing warm as she gave him another one of her brilliant grins. Oh, bloody Merlin, somebody definitely is laughing at him. He tugged at her lightly again, and pulled her gently in the direction of the kitchen.

George sighed in relief as Hermione bounded off the abominable stairs, and gesture to Fred with quick jerking movements to Ginny's room, situated happily right above the kitchen. Fred didn't reply, but shrugged and kept walking in the kitchen's direction.

She was hungry, and he would be damned if he let her starve.

"There must be some food", he exclaimed frustratedly. Settling Hermione on the kitchen counter, he circled around the small but tidy island to the pantries near the stairs. George followed his twin, and proceeded to ransack through the cabinets above the sink. They both grimaced when they returned to the eager little girl empty-handed.

"Maybe we should make her something?" George suggested. He turned to Hermione and patted her head affectionately. Hermione in returned giggled, her large doe eyes twinkling as she smiled cutely in contentment. George blushed faintly, turning his eyes back to Fred who also sported a similarly flush. Bloody Godric, she was adorable. "A sandwich perhaps?"

"After the incident?" Fred reminded with upraised brows.

"Oh right, that" George inclined his head in affirmation of the memory, and shuddered. They would never let Harry make another sandwich again. He may have killed Voldemort but damn it, how in bloody hell did he mixed hot sauce?

Fred tore his eyes from Hermione and glanced tiredly at the ceiling, "We'll just find her something. Some left-overs perhaps".

George nodded, mussing Hermione's hair a tad with a slight ruffle, before turning back to his twin, "I think there's some –"

A noise shuffled into the burrow's kitchen.

"What are you two doing?"

Fred cursed. Hermione giggled.

"Or should I say three…?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

Okay, okay, so I know I promised two weeks… b-but! *face slams in frustration* There was an actual legitimate reason.

I crashed my computer. Yep, that deathly heart-attack inducing moment when everything just deletes itself while the black screen just laughs in your face. After losing everything… three years of documents, ideas, pictures, everything (because of course, life sucks and the backup disc refused to work too), I just didn't had the heart to continue…

So this chapter is slightly (probably really, actually) different from how it was supposed to be. But anyways, thanks to everyone who reviewed. It makes me unbelievably happy to know that I'm doing at least something right.

* * *

><p><strong>Next chapter Snippet:<strong>

"Oh my bloody Merlin! You knocked some girl up!"

Fred flushed and sputtered indignantly, "I-I did not! It's Hermione!"

Bill gasped and pointed a shaking finger at the familiar little girl with curly brown hair.

….

…

..

.

George palmed his face and muttered beneath his breath as he covered Hermione's ears.

"You knocked Hermione up?"

…oh Bill… xD


End file.
